


Midsummer Murder

by ariel2me



Series: Midsummer Murder Universe [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DCI Stannis Baratheon is investigating the murder of Balon Greyjoy, with his not-so-trusty sidekicks Justin Massey and Richard Horpe, and the newest addition to his team, Arianne Martell. Meanwhile, Balon's daughter Asha has her own secrets and agenda.</p><p>Chapter 6: Lies and the Lying Liars who Lied</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Body in the Library

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deisegal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deisegal/gifts).



“Guv, you’re not going to believe this! Remember that bloke we pegged for the Stark murder last year? Well, the poor chap - ”

“I don’t have all day, Massey,” Stannis snapped in irritation. Sir. Chief Inspector. DCI Baratheon. He would have been perfectly all right with any of those. But no, Detective Sergeant Massey, late of Eton and Cambridge, just had to prove himself ‘one of the lads’.

“A new case, sir. A body. Balon Greyjoy’s residence.” Stannis approved of DS Horpe’s simple recital of facts. Blunt. Straightforward. He gave Richard Horpe a curt nod, and said pointedly to Justin Massey, “The facts. Just the facts. That’s all I need, Massey.”

That did not wipe the shit-eating grin off DS Massey’s face. _I give up_ , Stannis thought. _Hopeless._ _Completely hopeless._

“But he hasn’t told you, has he? DS-just-the-facts. He forgot to tell you the most important fact of all, guv,” Massey said, his hand patting Horpe’s shoulder. Horpe looked like he would love nothing more than to punch the owner of that hand in the face. “It’s Balon Greyjoy. He’s the dead guy in the library. And the whole clan is there, his children, brothers, even the estranged wife.” DS Massey rubbed his hands together with glee. “I would love another try at that lot, that’s for sure. Arrogant sods, all of them.”

It was still unsolved, Ned Stark’s murder. One of Stannis’ few failures. Balon Greyjoy’s brother Euron had been his alibi for the night of the murder. And his daughter Asha had acted as his solicitor during the interrogation, protesting at every line of questioning, sneering at the detectives at every turn.

“We can’t expect the police to be all that bright, can we? Considering how little we pay them. Even the graduates of Oxford and Cambridge,” Asha Greyjoy had said, her tone disdainful.

 _Damn that woman!_ The memory still rankled.

“Just because they were there doesn’t mean one of them did it,” Horpe pointed out. “He doesn’t lack enemy, Balon Greyjoy.”

“Get the car, Massey,” Stannis ordered. Speculating was pointless, best to start the investigation as soon as possible. “Not you, Horpe,” Stannis said, as DS Horpe started following Massey to the door. “I need you to check the whereabouts of Balon Greyjoy’s known enemies and associates.”

DS Horpe nodded swiftly. “Yes, sir,” he replied, but he looked disappointed. There was a rumoured opening for Detective Inspector, and he and Massey were both vying for the position.

 _I’m not a camp counsellor, not my job to “buck up the troops” or worry about their self-esteem,_ Stannis thought crossly.

“Massey can’t do it without running half-arsed after some speculation or other. Diligence, that’s what I need for this task.” Horpe’s whole face lit up hearing that from Stannis.

DS Massey would not stop talking on the way to the crime scene. He was driving too fast, as always. And his hair was still too long. “It’s regulation length, guv, I swear. You can measure it if you don’t believe me,” he had said, the last time Stannis had admonished him.  It was certainly regulation length at the back, Stannis had measured it himself. Sadly, the rules had not mentioned anything about the front. That was an oversight that must be remedied, Stannis thought. It was absolutely ridiculous for a Scotland Yard detective to have hair resembling members of a boyband.

Not that Stannis knew anything about boybands, or pop music. But he had seen the posters often enough in his teenage daughter’s room.

Shireen was not coming to stay with him this weekend. Her best friend was moving to Dublin, and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with her before the move.

 _You’re only at my house twice a month as it is_ , he wanted to say. But the last time she stayed with him, he had spent most of the Saturday and half the Sunday interrogating suspects. He figured he had forfeited the right to complain. Selyse had made more of a fuss. “If you don’t say anything, she’s going to think that you don’t care if she comes to stay with you or not. You’re her father, damn it! It’s your job to set some ground rules.”

“And you miss her too, I’m sure,” her voice softened.

Sometimes he felt like they had been more honest with each other, not to mention more charitable and understanding towards each other, in the five years since the divorce than in the entirety of their courtship and marriage.

_Maybe if we had been –_

No, he would not do this again. And Selyse had found someone else. She was happy. Something he had always thought she was not capable of being. _We’ll grow old together, Selyse and I, miserable and unhappy, but at least together_ , he had always believed.

Melisandre had made Selyse happy.

“Call me Mel,” she had said, when Stannis was finally introduced to her. Stannis never did call her that. _My wife’s lover_ , he thought sometimes. But of course Selyse was no longer his wife by the time she met Melisandre.

“-can’t be as arrogant as she was. She’s a suspect now, not a bloody solicitor,” Justin Massey was still rambling on and on.

“Justin.”

“Guv?” Massey’s face lit up, even brighter than Richard Horpe. He was grinning from ear-to-ear. It was very seldom that Stannis had called him by his first name.

“Shut up.”

DS Massey was silent for the rest of the journey. Peace, at last.

Balon Greyjoy’s mansion – and Stannis definitely thought of it as a mansion, for to call something that monstrously huge and ugly a house was an insult to houses everywhere – was at the end of a very long drive. Scene-of-crime officers were already on site, as well as the pathologist. One of the SOCOs collided with Stannis at the door.

“Sorry, sir,” the young man said. Stannis recognized the voice. Devan. Devan Seaworth.

“I didn’t know you’ve completed your training,” Stannis said.

Devan smiled. “Just last month, sir.”

“How is your … your mother?”

The smile faded. “As well as can be expected, sir.”

“Devan!” Someone shouted from the SOCO van.

“I’d better go, sir. It’s nice meeting you again.”

“Regards to your mother, Devan.”

Justin Massey was staring at Devan’s retreating back. “Isn’t that one of DI Seaworth’s sons, guv?”

Stannis nodded curtly.

“It’s a pity what happened to DI Seaworth. He was your first sergeant, wasn’t he? When you first made Detective Inspector."

“We’re not here to investigate my history, Massey,” Stannis barked out angrily. Before Justin Massey could make a reply, however, a woman’s querulous voice greeted them.

“I hope you’re not planning to keep us here all day, Inspector.” Asha Greyjoy’s voice was full of contempt.

Anger rather than grief. Interesting, Stannis thought.

“It’s Chief Inspector, actually. Detective Chief Inspector Stannis Baratheon. And you are all suspects in your father’s murder. Including you, Miss Greyjoy.” Stannis replied calmly.

“Really? That’s news to me. I was in court when the murder happened. My mother phoned me when they found the body. Your scene-of-crime officers were already sniffing around when I got here,” Asha Greyjoy countered.

Stannis glanced sharply at DS Massey, who at least had the grace to look sheepish. That’s not what he had led Stannis to believe. “Well, we’ll have to check your story, of course. I can’t simply take your word for it,” Stannis said.

“I don’t suppose you ever take anyone’s word for anything, Inspector,” Asha Greyjoy replied, before rattling off the names and phone numbers of the people who could confirm her presence in court. DS Massey struggled to write them down in his notebook; she was talking so fast.

“Asha? Who is that? Who are you talking to?” A fearful, tremulous voice called out from the direction of the living room.

Something flitted across Asha Greyjoy’s face for a brief, brief moment. Not anger this time. Worry? Fear?

“It’s all right, Mother. It’s only the detectives.”

“I’ll speak with your mother first, Miss Greyjoy. If you would be so kind to let her know? We’ll wait for her in the dining room.” Stannis said, as politely as he could manage with this woman.

Stannis had the distinct impression that Asha Greyjoy did not like that one bit. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something in protest, but something made her change her mind.

“Very well, Inspector,” she replied tersely.


	2. Her Father's Sons

_Why does it have to be him?_ Ashalamented. Of all the detectives at the Yard, why did they have to send DCIStannisBaratheon? The man had harassed her father endlessly while investigating Ned Stark’s murder. Wasn’t it a breach of protocol to have him investigating her father’s murder now?

DCIBaratheonwould not do. He would not do at all. The man saw too much. She must speak to his superior.As a solicitor, not just as the victim’s daughter.Threaten to kick up a fuss, to go to the press if she has to. She must do that.

Her father, a victim.Her father, murdered.Her father, dead. _No! Stop._ She did not have time to grieve. Not yet. Not now.

Ashawas the strong one, the one her father could always count on. That’s whatBalonGreyjoyhad often said.ToTheon, especially.

“You don’t understand! How could you? He _loves_ you. He loves _you_ and wishes that you’re his only remaining son, not me. I am no one! Nobody! Not to him, not to the world,”Theonhad screamed and shouted, during one of his drunken rages.

_How do you think it makes me feel, Father wishing I am his son? Not a daughter, but a son. He might have hated you, but he hated the fact that I don’t have what you have between your legs a whole lot more._

_What Theonhad_,Ashaautomatically amended in her head.

She did not want to think ofTheonnow. There was time for that later.Priorities.She needed to keep her priorities straight.

Three voices struggled for dominance in the living room.Even her mother’s voice.Her mother who had sounded so helpless and terrified in front of the detectives earlier, her voice was the loudest now. “No!” She batted away Vic’s hand. “I will not stand by and do nothing. No. Not this time!” It was toEuronshe was shouting, not Vic.

Theonwas passed out on the sofa, oblivious to all the shouting.

“They can hear you, you know. The police,”Ashasaid sharply.

Euronraised one eyebrow, the one over his good eye. “The library is all the way on the other side of the house. And your father built a _really_ big house,” he smirked.

She hated him looking at her.

“The detectives would like to speak to all of us.In the dining room.”Which is _not_ on the other side of the house,Ashaknew she did not have to point out.

“All of us? Together?” Vic sounded sceptical.

She hated Vic looking at her too. She imagined clawing their eyes out, her two uncles. She relished the thought. How satisfying it would be. How relieved it would make her, finally.

_You can’t look at me anymore. Not ever._

“No, not all of us together, of course,”Ashareplied, her voice calm and steady. _You will never know how much I despise you both._ “Mother, they want to speak with you first.” Her mother had been the one to find the body.

The body.The body in the library.It was like something out of an Agatha Christie mystery.Ashahad to stifle a sudden urge to laugh.

Her mother was back to looking scared and helpless.“Asha?Will you come with me, dearie?”

Ashahad been planning to do that in any case. “Of course, Mother,” she said, with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Which was the act, and which was the real woman? The angry, defiant oneAlannysGreyjoyhad been toEuronand Vic earlier, or this nervous woman afraid of her own shadow?Ashacould not tell anymore, her mother as much an incomprehensible void toAshaas her two dead brothers. Her brothers were truly gone, body and soul. Her mother’s body was still here, moving, breathing, talking, but in truth, she had departed the scene years and years ago.Ashahad blinked for a moment, only a brief moment, and her mother was gone.

_And who could blame her? After … everything._

Ashapatted her mother’s hand. “We should not keep them waiting,” she said.

Her mother took a deep breath. “Well! I’ll just tell them the truth. There’s nothing to be afraid of, I haven’t done anything wrong,” she smiled atAsha, linking her fragile and fleshless fingers withAsha’sown.

_Haven’t you, Mother?_

She used to run barefoot on the snow, in the middle of freezing winter, looking for her sons.Ashahad not forgotten that. She never would, or could, not if she lived to be a hundred. “They’re here! I know they are. They’re just lost.Or hiding somewhere.You know how they are,RodrikandMaron.Naughty boys.Where are you, my naughty, naughty boys? Come to mummy. I won’t be cross, I promise. It’slate,you must eat your supper now.Rodrik?Maron?Where are you?”

RodrikandMaronhad not been boys for years when they died. They had stopped calling her ‘mummy’ for much longer than that.

Her mother’s lost boys.Theonwas one ofAlannys’ lost boys too, now. Alive, but wishing that he was dead.A walking corpse.He, too, had departed the scene, months and months ago.

Ashawas not lost, she was never lost. She always knew her way, had always found her way back home, somehow.

There were times she wished she hadn’t.

The dining room was empty whenAshaand her mother got there. There was no sign of DCIBaratheon, or his sergeant with the wind-tossed blond hair.Ashapaced the room impatiently, cursing them both under her breath. _Immediately_ , he had said, as if challengingAshato hesitate, to show fear. She had done neither,Ashawas certain.

“I expect he’s inspecting the crime scene.The detective.That’s what they’re supposed to do first, isn’t it?The police.Before they start interrogating the suspects,”Asha’smother said, her voice toneless, as if she was merely reciting some random factoid completely unrelated to their current situation.

“You’re not a suspect, Mother. Only a witness,”Ashasaid, as gently as she could.

“Why are you here, MrsGreyjoy?In this house.This hasn’t been your residence for years, hasn’t it?” DCIBaratheonbarked out the question before he was even seated. The sergeant was not with him, probably assigned some trivial task somewhere else. He did not seem like a team player,StannisBaratheon,Ashahad gathered from her previous encounter with the man. He seemed like a man who did not trust anyone except himself to do a job right.

Ashawas a team player. She was such a good team player she made herself sick at times, thinking about it.

“My father invited her. For-“

He interruptedAsha, rudely. “I don’t remember asking _you_ the question, MissGreyjoy. I was asking your mother. MrsGreyjoy, I’ll ask you again, why-“

Ashareturned the favour, and interrupted before he could finish asking the question. “It’s Ms, actually, Inspector, not Miss. I believe I’ve told you this before, when you were harassing my father.”

Ashacould hear the man’s teeth grinding from side to side. _His dentist must be making a packet_.

“Chief Inspector. _Not_ Inspector, MsGreyjoy.” He spitted out the words with contempt. “Now, MrsGreyjoy, what were you doing in your estranged husband’s home on the very day he found himself conveniently murdered?”

“Hold on! That is a very prejudicial-“

“We are not in court, MsGreyjoy. And you are not a barrister, merely a _solicitor_.”

They were talking over each other, each trying to gain the upper hand. The sergeant with the ridiculous hair broke the impasse when he dashed into the room suddenly, shouting excitedly, “Guv! We’ve found it!The murder weapon.”

Ashamanaged to catch her mother before she hit the floor.


	3. The Smiling Detective

Justin Massey took care to keep his mouth firmly shut on the drive back to the station. He was not about to make the same mistake he did on the way over, talking too much in front of Stannis. The boss was seething, his fury simmering just below the surface. One wrong word, and Justin knew he would the unlucky recipient of a major telling-off.

Not that the guv’s face looked all that different, angry or not angry, Justin thought, as he glanced furtively at the man sitting next to him. The mouth was frowning, true, but Stannis Baratheon’s mouth was always frowning.

“Watch out for that lorry!” Justin was startled out of his contemplation by Stannis’ angry voice. The lorry was nowhere near to hitting the car! Yelling was a massive overreaction.

“Are you _that_ tired of living, Massey?” The boss was asking scornfully. “Planning to join Balon Greyjoy in his sojourn? In your own time, Massey. In your own time. I have no wish to die yet.”

“Sorry, guv,” Justin replied, wincing. Silence returned to the car. Stannis was adamant about not putting on music while driving, not even something soothing and relaxing.

_He’s not even the one doing the driving_ , Justin grumbled silently. _What’s wrong with a bit of Coldplay?_

“Well?” Stannis was staring intently at Justin.

_What does he mean, “well”? You need a translator to understand him, you really do._

“Err, sorry guv?” Was this about the case, or about his driving? Justin could not tell.

Stannis sighed heavily. “Don’t you have anything to say about the case, Massey? You wouldn’t shut up on the way to the crime scene, when we knew nothing yet about the crime. But now that we’ve seen the body and the crime scene, and talked to the people who were there, suddenly you don’t have anything to say?”

Justin was cursing himself. This _always_ happened to him, always. Not just with Stannis, but with other people as well. Overcompensating, a former girlfriend had told him. _Too damn eager to please, Justin, that’s your problem._

That, and the fact that he had cheated on her. With her sister. Twin sister, in fact.

Maggie and Peggy. They were not identical twins, alas.

“Oy! Are you listening, DS Massey?” Stannis was fast losing his patience.

What was the boss asking? Oh yes, about the case. “The wife was acting very suspicious, I thought. Fainted when she heard of the murder weapon?” Justin scoffed. “Was she acting, do you reckon, guv? Trying to get away from answering our questions, so she’d have time to cook up some story or other. With that daughter of hers helping, I’m sure.”

Asha Greyjoy that arrogant bloody solicitor had somehow arranged for the family doctor to come to the house to see her mother within minutes of her fainting. By the time Stannis and Justin came back from inspecting the murder weapon and the spot it was found, the doctor had forbidden them from talking to his “patient.”

“You will have to wait, Chief Inspector. Mrs Greyjoy is not in any condition to answer your questions at this moment. Her health is very precarious as it is, and the shock does not help,” the doctor had said firmly, staring with disgust at Stannis and Justin as if _they_ were responsible for the poor state of Alannys Greyjoy’s health. Justin was outraged.

_The guv only had time to ask her the one question, and she didn’t even bother answering._

But that was their lot, Justin knew, people found it easier to blame the coppers for everything.

  _“What a waste. After all the money we’ve spent sending you to the best schools and the best university. Money the family can’t really afford, in case you’ve forgotten, Justin. A detective?  A solicitor is bad enough, not good enough to cut it as a barrister, people will whisper, but a detective? How can I show my face at the club now?”_

“I’m sure you’ll find a way, pater,” Justin had replied blithely to his father’s scorn.

_After all, you managed to show your face at the club just fine after that scandal with your 22-year-old secretary._

_The unfortunate incident_ , Justin’s mother had insisted on calling it. His parents were still married and living in the same house, thirty five years and counting. Justin had given up wondering why.

_“_ What _exactly_ is wrong with Mrs Greyjoy, do you mind telling us, doctor?” Stannis had asked  the doctor at Balon Greyjoy’s house.

The doctor looked mightily offended. “I _do_ mind, Chief Inspector. Doctor-patient confidentiality, I’m sure you’ve heard of that, a man of your rank.”

“So we’re just supposed to take your word for it, then? That she’s not fit to answer questions. But you won’t tell us what’s wrong with her,” Justin interrupted. The arrogant doctor was getting on his nerves. In fact, everyone in this house was getting on his nerves. Too bloody arrogant, for starters. They acted as if they owned the world, just because Balon Greyjoy had made a packet being a slumlord and lending money with exorbitant interest rates.

“You can’t help being a snob, Justin,” Richard Horpe had said with derision, the last time their path had crossed with the Greyjoy clan, during the Ned Stark murder investigation.

“A snob?! Me? They’re the ones living it up in a huge mansion, driving Jaguars and Ferraris, not me,” Justin had replied, incredulous.

“But their money’s not as old as your family’s, right? Remind me again which century your ancestor was made an Earl? 16th? 17th? Balon Greyjoy made his money the old-fashion way. He didn’t simply inherit it, unlike some people,” Horpe had replied, without even the courtesy of looking Justin in the eye.

_There’s nothing left to bloody inherit in my family, you bloody sod!_ Except for a badly-heated crumbling old house his father should have sold a long time ago. But Justin’s father did not want to be the Massey remembered for selling off the last of the family silver.

Justin smiled, and patted Horpe’s back. He knew how much Horpe loathed being touched. Even by a woman, Justin suspected. Horpe lived only for the job. He had scant else in his life, no friends, certainly no girlfriend that Justin knew of. Horpe was worse than the boss in that regard. At least Stannis was married once. And Stannis and his daughter did not seem to get along too badly, the few times Justin had seen them together.

“Balon Greyjoy made his money the old-fashion way, all right. Extorting and stealing,” Justin said. To his surprise, Horpe actually laughed. “The man’s a crook all right, and he’ll get his comeuppance one of these days, I’m sure,” Horpe replied with venom.

_If you hate him that much, what was that all about then, earlier? Calling me a snob for not liking papa Greyjoy and his clan._

Obviously just to irritate and needle him, Justin realized. They’ve been doing this dance for a while now, him and Horpy, ever since Justin was assigned to DCI Stannis’ team. Horpe had already been there for almost a year when Justin came, and he had fancied himself as Stannis’ right hand man on the team.

_Not bloody likely_ , Justin snorted.

“Something you want to share, Massey?” Stannis was asking. Justin suddenly remembered where he was. In the car, on the way back to the station, with the boss.

Had Stannis replied to his question about Balon Greyjoy’s wife fainting? This was awkward, really awkward. Justin didn’t dare ask the question again, in case Stannis had already made his reply and Justin had missed it because he was too busy thinking of his feud with Richard Horpe. But missing Stannis’ answer could also mean disaster. For Justin. Even for the case, perhaps. Justin was cracking his head trying to figure out a way to finesse the situation. But the summer heat, combined with the oppressive atmosphere in the car with the boss sitting so close – judging, evaluating, constantly judging and evaluating – had shut his brain down.

_Maybe Father was right. I should have been a barrister._

With his luck though, if he had chosen that path, Stannis would probably be the judge Justin encountered on a regular basis. The thought of Stannis wearing a gown and a wig was quite entertaining, however. _Photoshop_ , Justin thought. Thank the heavens for Photoshop.

“I don’t think she was faking it. Mrs Greyjoy. No, it was genuine enough, I should think. But _why_ she fainted is a more interesting question,” Stannis was saying. So Justin had not missed his reply after all.

_Thank you god_! Justin prayed. He resolved to attend Sunday service the next time he visited the family home. His mother was always lecturing him about missing the service on his infrequent visits home.

“I don’t give two hoots about god either, Justin. But the village expects us to attend. It’s our duty to the parish.”

“To sit there and look bored?”

“To show our face, as the preeminent family in the parish. I know young people these days don’t care a whit about duty, but I was raised to always do my duty,” his mother had replied firmly. There were times when Stannis Baratheon strongly reminded Justin of his own mother. He wondered what it would be like, should the two of them meet.

_“Mother, this is Chief Inspector Stannis Baratheon. My immediate superior. My mother, sir. Lady Justine Massey.”_ Justin imagined introducing them, in the living room of the Massey family home, the only part of the house still adequately furnished and adequately heated in winter. Because appearances must be maintained with outsiders, no matter how broke the family was now.

_With my luck, they’ll probably get on like a house on fire, complaining about all the ways I’m a disappointment and a sore trial to them both._

“Do _you_ think she was faking it?” Stannis was asking Justin.

Stannis was talking about Mrs Greyjoy, Justin had to remind himself. _Not_ Lady Massey.

Justin shook his head. “Didn’t seem like it, guv. And her daughter was truly worried, that was the first time I saw any genuine emotion on Asha Greyjoy’s face. She’s a cool customer, that one. Didn’t seem like she lost too many tears for dear old Dad, did she?” Stannis and Justin had spoken to the other Greyjoys – Asha, Balon’s two brothers, and the son who was still in a drunken stupor. All of them professed complete bafflement about the crime.

_Liars, all of them_ , Justin thought, as he was parking the car.

“You’re taking up space from the next spot, Massey,” Stannis said with irritation. “How hard is it to stay within the white lines?”

_Oh for the love of god!_ The boss was brilliant, the most brilliant detective Justin had ever worked for, in fact. But there were times when Justin felt like strangling him.

Richard Horpe was waiting in Stannis’ office, waving a piece of paper in his hand, looking as excited as Horpe could ever look. Stannis made his way to his office. Justin sat down at his cubicle, sighing deeply.

“Why, what’s this? Gloomy Justin? What’s troubling you, my white knight?” Arianne’s voice. No, not Arianne, Detective Sergeant Martell. He had promised himself to call her that, and only that. Not Arianne. Not anymore. Not ever.

 “Don’t call me that,” he replied automatically. He was not in the mood for one of her jokes right now. Arianne pretended to look hurt.

“Massey! My office, now.” Stannis was calling for him. Justin breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe his luck was changing after all. He was smiling and whistling as he made his way to Stannis’ office.

 


	4. The Angry Detective

He was a plodder, a crammer, as far away from a high-flyer you could get while still being in the same continent. Horpe was well aware of his reputation in the office. If you needed someone to do the boring and routine stuff - hitting the phones, verifying alibis, checking bank records and witness statements - DS Horpe was your man. He’d attack a list of names with the fervour of a lion stalking his prey; missing nothing, never distracted by anything, not even an earthquake.

But if what you  _really_  needed was a detective that could connect the dots, come up with epiphanies that would make or break a case, you’d be better off asking the cleaning lady rather than relying on DS Horpe. The facts. Just the facts. That was all DS Horpe could give you, nothing more, nothing less.

 _Not true!_   _It was my idea to lure that kiddie porn creep with Photoshopped pictures that finally solved Rhaenys Targaryen’s murder._  That bastard Gregor Clegane would still be on the streets if not for that. That was just one case; there were more, lots more where Horpe’s contribution had gone unnoticed and unremarked.

Perhaps if he was more willing to smile and charm his way to the top like Justin Massey, his career would take off with more success. But Horpe would never lower himself to that level. And Justin had more than just charms on his side - he had the old school ties with most of the top brass, courtesy of Eton and Cambridge, as well as the Honourable before his name, courtesy of being the younger son of a bloody sodding Earl. The Hon. Justin Massey.  _More like the never-honourable Justin Massey_ , Horpe snickered. He knew all about Massey’s many, many misadventures with women. Massey was an incorrigible womaniser, an indiscriminate flirt who would seduce a lamppost if he thought he had a chance.

And Horpe? Horpe had a wastrel of a father who spent most of his life unemployed and on the dole, and a mother who “raised” her children in a dark, dank council flat, when she was not leaving them alone to fend for themselves at all hours of the day while she drank herself to stupor in a pub.

Not that Horpe was still bitter or anything. He had erased his parents from his life so completely as if they had ever existed.

Horpe had given up on anyone ever giving him the recognition he thought he deserved on the job. He would do his work, keep his head down and his mouth shut, even if he felt only scorn for his colleagues and superior officers at the Yard. And then he was assigned to DCI Baratheon’s team. The chief inspector was the first to see more in Horpe. To appreciate his diligence and hard-work for what they were. There was nothing Horpe would not do for the man.  _Nothing_.

“Well? What did you find out?” The chief inspector was asking Horpe.

“Ned Stark’s wife and children all had alibis, sir. Water-tight, it seems. They were meeting with detectives from the Cold Case squad around the time of Balon Greyjoy’s murder.”

Ned Stark’s murder investigation had been reassigned from Homicide to Cold Case last month. DCI Baratheon had fought strenuously against the move, to no avail.

“We will break one of the Greyjoys soon, sir. I am convinced of it. Balon Greyjoy is the murderer,” Horpe had heard DCI Baratheon making his case to Detective Superindentent Jon Arryn.

 “I’m sorry, Stannis. Orders from the top. It’s out of my hands,” Superintendent Arryn had replied, looking sad. “It’s because we both knew the victim, you see. Undue influence, malicious prosecution, who knows what else - counsel for the defense could argue all sorts of things when the case comes to court.”

“ _You_  knew the victim, sir, not me. Ned Stark was no friend of mine. My brother Robert was his friend, not me.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done now. Let it go, Stannis,” the superintendent replied. “There are other murders to solve.”

And now they were trying to solve Balon Greyjoy’s murder. Karmic justice? Or revenge served by family of the many victims Balon Greyjoy and his family had terrorised in his lifetime? Even if the Starks were in the clear, there must be other victims out there, other families bent on seeking justice. Justice the police and the court had failed to give them.

“ _All_  the Starks were at this meeting? Even the four-year-old boy?”

Horpe cleared his throat. He had made a big mistake, in his excitement to share what he had found out about Alannys Greyjoy with DCI Baratheon. The devil is in the details, even the smallest or seemingly inconsequential ones. And words must be used precisely, DCI Baratheon had been very clear about that with his team. Even a misplaced pronoun could lead to a huge misunderstanding and spell the difference between solving a case, and letting a murderer go free.

“Horpe?” DCI Baratheon sounded impatient.

“Not all of them, sir. The two youngest boys, Brandon and Rickon Stark were at home with a babysitter,” Horpe came clean with his boss. “I … I misspoke earlier, sir.”

“Damn it Horpe!” DCI Baratheon exploded. “You, of all people. I would have expected something this sloppy from Massey, not you.  _All_  should mean all, not one-third of the family.”

“Actually sir, it was more five-seventh,” Horpe replied quickly. “The other son, the one who is not Catelyn Stark’s, he was there at the meeting as well.”

“Jon Snow,” Stannis muttered under his breath. “It’s quite unlikely that little Brandon or Rickon Stark murdered Balon Greyjoy, considering  _how_  he died. But still, check if they were really at home like they were supposed to be. And this still doesn’t rule the Starks out. They could have hired someone to do the job.”

Horpe nodded. “I’ll get started on the bank records, phone-calls and the rest. If they paid someone to kill Balon for revenge, we’ll find out.” He paused. “But sir, it could be someone closer to home. Alannys Greyjoy is back at the family mansion. The estranged wife?”

“Yes, we met Mrs Greyjoy at the house. As far as I’m concerned, all the Greyjoys are suspects at this point. What put _her_ at the top of your list?”

“She told her brother Rodrik Harlaw that she couldn’t stand it any longer, living in the same house with Balon Greyjoy. She wanted to come live with her brother again, in his house. He said –“

DCI Baratheon interrupted. “ _Living in the same house as Balon Greyjoy_? Was that Rodrik Harlaw’s exact words?”

Horpe consulted his notebook. “Yes, sir. That’s what he said, word-for-word.”

DCI Baratheon moved towards the glass window, tapped the glass twice, and motioned towards Justin Massey. Horpe stifled a groan. Massey bounded into the room with a huge smile on his face.

“You need me, guv?” Massey asked before he even closed the door.

“Asha Greyjoy told you that her mother was only in the house for a short visit, correct?”

Massey consulted his notebook. The handwriting was barely legible, and there seemed to be no order to his note-taking at all, Horpe noticed with contempt and despair.

“I don’t have all day, Massey,” DCI Baratheon was losing his patience as he watched Justin frantically searching through his notebook. “Didn’t Cambridge teach you to write legibly?”

“Pity I didn’t go to Oxford instead, guv. I would have learned to write as neat as you do,” Massey replied with an easy smile on his face.

The nerve of the man! Horpe waited with relish for the tongue-lashing to come from DCI Baratheon.

It never came. Instead, the chief inspector snatched the notebook from Justin, and after a few seconds, found what he was looking for. “According to Asha Greyjoy, her father invited her mother over to the house to discuss some ‘ _family matter_ ’. Alannys Greyjoy arrived at the house the day before the murder.”

“Yes, guv, that’s what she said,” Massey replied, without even the decency to look guilty or embarrassed. “She was very vague about what the ‘ _family matter’_ was.”

DCI Baratheon turned to Horpe. “Tell Massey what Rodrik Harlaw told you about Alannys Greyjoy’s visit to the Greyjoy home.”

 _Massey is not my boss!_  Horpe kept his resentment in check, however, and recited the facts in a toneless voice.

Justin Massey whistled. “So she’s lying. The high and mighty solicitor, officer of the court, butter-won’t-melt-in-her-mouth Ms Asha Greyjoy lied through her teeth to police officers. Her mother’s been staying in the house for three months, not two days.”

“Or Rodrik Harlaw could be lying,” DCI Baratheon pointed out.

“But guv, what motive could he have for lying? Asha Greyjoy is obviously lying in order to protect her mother,” Massey said.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Horpe had to agree with Massey on this point.

DCI Baratheon did not seem convinced. Yet. “Protect her mother from what?” He asked.

“From us, of course. From the police,” Massey replied.

“Why?” The boss was not done with his questions.

“Because she did it, of course! Alannys Greyjoy killed her husband, and Asha Greyjoy knew this,” Massey was getting more and more excited.

 “She doesn’t necessarily have to know. She could suspect, but knows nothing for sure,”Horpe said.

Massey turned to look at Horpe with disgust. “Oh come on! She wouldn’t lie for a mere  _suspicion_. She’s a solicitor. The woman is arrogant, not stupid.”

‘Unlike  _some_  people,” Horpe muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?” Massey’s voice had lost all its easy charm.

“Enough!” DCI Baratheon snapped. “Either way, if Rodrik Harlaw is telling the truth, then Asha Greyjoy is at the very least guilty of lying to the police and obstruction of justice. Perhaps even conspiracy after the fact. If Rodrik Harlaw is lying, then we need to know  _why_  he lied. Bring them both in for questioning.”


	5. The Loyal Detective

“Coffee? Black, no sugar,right?” Superintendent Arryn said, before Stannis could decline. Stannis took the coffee and set it down without taking a sip. “Thank you, sir.”

The Super’s office was cold, air-conditioning going full-blast. “This heat is getting to me,” Jon Arryn said, carefully folding his sleeves up to his elbows. The man did everything carefully and deliberately. “So … how goes the case?”

“We are following a few leads, sir. There is a discrepancy between the statement given by Asha Greyjoy and the one given by her uncle Rodrik Harlaw regarding Mrs Greyjoy’s stay at the Greyjoy’s mansion. They are coming in tomorrow morning to provide further statements.”

“Is she a suspect?”

“Mrs Greyjoy, or Ms Asha Greyjoy?”

Superintendent Arryn paused. “Both, I suppose.”

“Asha Greyjoy’s alibi at the courthouse checked out. She could not have pulled the trigger herself. But of course, she could still be involved.”

“Before, or after the fact?”

“Either, or both. We’ll know more after we’ve questioned her tomorrow.”

“And the gun?”

“Untraceable, for now. The serial number has been filed off. Ballistic test is still ongoing.”

Jon Arryn smiled. “I’m sure you have everything under control, Stannis. You always do.”

Why the late evening summon then, Stannis wondered?

“It’s about DI Seaworth,” the Super said, as if he knew what Stannis was silently wondering. “There is no easy way to say this, but I really think it’s time –“

“Is he dead, sir?”

“What? No! That is, no one has informed me otherwise. I spoke to his wife on the phone this morning. She said there has been no change in his condition.” He paused. “She said you have not been to the hospital for a while.”

“I have been busy with cases, sir.” And what good would visiting him do? There was nothing Stannis could do for the man. Not anymore.

_Look, guv, I have a bad feeling about this._

_The information is solid, Davos. Checked and tripled checked._

_That may be, guv, but my gut says –_

“Stannis?”

“Sir.”

“DI Seaworth has been in the hospital for six months. And the doctors are saying there is no guarantee that he will ever wake up from his coma. We need to think about –“

“He was injured on the job. Pension and benefits guaranteed for the rest of his life, even if he never returned to the job,” Stannis said heatedly. “ _Sir_.”

Superintendent Arryn sighed. “I’m not talking about that, and you know it, Stannis. This is not worthy of you.” He paused and regarded Stannis with compassion in his eyes. “Stop stalling, son.”

Stannis clenched his jaw. _I am not your son! You may have taken Robert under your wing, but I am not your son, nor do I wish to be._

“Have you chosen his replacement, then? Which Detective Inspector are you putting on my team?”

“Someone who is already a member of the team, I should think. Detective Sergeant Horpe and Detective Sergeant Massey are two suitable candidates. I will need your recommendation by the end of the month, DCI Baratheon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s … not easy, I know. You and DI Seaworth have been through a lot together.”

“The job is the job, sir.”

“Of course. But we’re all still human, eh?”

Not him. Not Stannis Baratheon, not the man who caused-

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect Asha Greyjoy would be coming in with a battery of solicitors,” the Super mused.

“I would expect nothing less from her, sir.”

“Careful, Stannis. Let’s not give the woman another reason to accuse the police of bias,” Superintendent Arryn warned.

“Her father is the victim this time, not the prime suspect. How can she allege bias?”

“Bias towards her, not her father. You did not get on well last time, I heard.”

“I was doing my job, and she was doing hers. Nothing more to it than that, sir,” Stannis replied firmly.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

Now what had the Super meant by that? Stannis was still pondering Superintendent Arryn’s last remark as he made his way to his car. “Guv!” Justin Massey’s voice called out to him from a few feet away.

Stannis frowned. “I am not deaf, Massey. You don’t have to shout.”

“Sorry, guv. I mean, sir. Could I get a lift, by any chance?” Massey asked, smiling his nonchalant smile.

_We should carpool, guv, I reckon. Your house is on my way to work. I could pick you up every morning. Saves us both petrol._

_And why should we be using your car and not mine, Davos?_

_Yours burns petrol like a greedy pirate, that’s why. We want to save money, not waste it._

He had not minded Davos calling him _guv_. DI Seaworth came by his working class background honestly, the son of a dockworker who spent some years working in the shipyard himself before he joined the police force.

“Sir?”

Stannis sighed. “Get in, Massey. What happened to your car?”

Justin opened his mouth to start a long-winded explanation that would make almost no sense, Stannis expected. “Never mind,” Stannis growled. “Just get in. Quickly, I don’t have all day.”

“I’ve set up the interviews tomorrow. Rodrik Harlaw at nine, and Asha Greyjoy at ten,” Justin said, once they were in the car.

“What about Alannys Greyjoy?”

“Still ‘ _not fit for police interrogation_ ,’ according to her doctor. That wanker,” Justin swore under his breath, and then looked dismayed. “Sorry, sir.”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “I thought he would be just your type, that doctor.”

“My type, sir? You mean posh?” Justin looked almost hurt, with that ‘ _how could you think that about me, sir?_ ’ little-boy-lost look in his eyes.

Stannis longed to throw up his hands with frustration, but the steering wheel was his priority at the moment. Oh they were all like needy children sometimes! Even Horpe, even steady, rock-like Richard Horpe had his moments of -

Davos had never been needy. Davos had never needed anybody’s approval.

“ _They’re still young, guv. You remember what it’s like being young,”_ Davos would have said.

“ _I was never that young,”_ Stannis would have scoffed.

“Do you mean I’m posh like that doctor, guv?” Justin was like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go.

“No, Massey. I don’t mean _posh_ , whatever that word is supposed to mean. I mean cocky and too sure of yourself for your own good.”

“Well, sometimes it’s all a front, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Nothing, sir. We should get our own doctor to examine Mrs Greyjoy, I reckon. To make sure she is not just faking illness.”

Stannis nodded. “Yes. Have that arranged, will you?”

“Now, sir?”

Stannis sighed with impatience. “Not right this very minute, no.”

“Then why are we heading to the hospital?” Justin asked, glancing out the window.

“We’re not heading to the hospital. I’m giving you a lift home, which is more than most superior officers would do, Massey.”

“Sir.” Justin pointed to the signboard.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier? You must have noticed we were heading the wrong way.”

“Well, I thought … I thought maybe you have another stop to make. You’re giving me a lift, sir. I can’t be complaining about your driving, can I?” Justin pointed out. “Are you visiting DI Seaworth, sir?” He asked, after a while.

“No,” Stannis said through clenched teeth. “I took the wrong turn, that’s all.”

“I’ve never known you to take a wrong turn before,” Justin said.

“There is a lot you don’t know about me, Massey. And let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

“Well, we’re here, sir. Might as well … you know,” Justin said brightly, as if he was talking about a trip to the cinema. Or a pub.

_I have your back, guv._

_You always do, DI Seaworth._

_Oh we’re doing that now, are we? Should I be calling you ‘sir’, then?_

Someone was knocking on the driver’s side window, startling Stannis and Justin both. Stannis rolled down the window. Marya. It was Marya. And she was smiling.

Stannis winced. He did not deserve her smile.

_If only you know. You should be slapping me, railing at me. Not giving me a smile. Not looking at me with those kindly eyes._

_I should have trusted his instinct._

_Something’s not right, guv. I can feel it._

But Stannis Baratheon was not a man for instincts or gut feelings.

“Well, now, Stanny _said_ he saw your car. Didn’t believe him at first. It could be someone else’s car, I said. It’s been months and months, the Chief Inspector could be driving something else by now,” Marya said.

Her face was red and puffy, her hair a tangled mess. “How have you been?” Stannis asked, not looking her in the eyes.

“Coping,” she replied, simply. “Coping, and hoping. That’s all we _can_ do, isn’t it?”

“Are the boys here?”

Marya nodded. “Steff and Stanny. Devan was here, but he had to leave for a job. Robbery, or was it burglary? It’s all mixed up after a while,” Marya laughed, a nervous laugh.

“Scene of crime officers … it’s not like being a police officer.” Stannis halted, not certain of the right words to say. “It’s safer. The risk-“

Marya waved off the awkward reassurance. “I know. Devan’s given me the A to Z often enough. Well, come up, then. The boys will be pleased to see you.” She paused. “And he will too, I know it. He’s not all gone. He’s still here, I can feel it.”

 


	6. Lies and the Lying Liars Who Lied

“It won’t be a problem, you can guarantee that?”

“Sir?”

“You and Massey, on the same team,” Stannis snapped, impatient.

“Why would it be a problem, sir?”

“Don’t play coy, DS Martell. You know precisely what I mean.”

“We dated casually for a short while, sir. Same rank, different teams. We were not breaking any rules, then. Now that DS Massey and I will be in the same team, obviously we will never –“

“Massey said the two of you were in a … _relationship_ , as he put it,” Stannis interrupted, frowning. “Was he lying, or are you?”

“No one is lying, sir.”

Stannis looked extremely sceptical. “You and Massey just had different takes on the exact nature of your involvement, is that it?”

“Is that so unusual?”

Stannis made no reply.

“We slept together. It was fun while it lasted, but –“

Stannis winced, holding up his hand. “I have absolutely no interest in the details, Martell.”

“- but it’s been over for a while, sir. There won’t be any problem with DS Massey and I working together in the same team, I can guarantee that.”

“Massey gave me the same guarantee, only with a lot more unnecessary words and florid phrases,” Stannis scoffed. “Rules and regulations are there for a reason, sergeant.”

“I understand, sir.”

Just as well that DCI Baratheon didn’t seem to know about the _other_ time Justin and Arianne had been involved, back when they were not yet detectives and were still in uniform; when they were partners and therefore _was_ in fact breaking any number of rules and regulations.

 _In a relationship_. Arianne snickered silently. As if Justin Massey had ever been in a real relationship in his life.

_God, Justin, what were you thinking, saying that to your boss? Your rule-obsessed boss._

_Her_ rule-obsessed boss too, now, Arianne reminded herself. The competition to be in DCI Baratheon’s team was stiff. Now that she had made it into his team, she was not about to squander the opportunity.

Once she would have phoned her father the minute she was out of the room. “ _Guess what, Dad_?” she would have shrieked. Not now, though.

_I’m better than Quentyn, Dad. It’s not your precious golden boy chosen to be in the elite team, the one with the highest clearance rate._

No, she wouldn’t say that either, of course. She would say nothing at all; she would wait for her father to find out on his own, wait for _him_ to call while trying to convince herself that she was not waiting at all, that her father’s opinion had ceased to matter to her in any way, shape, or form.

 _If you tell a lie often enough, one day you will start to believe in it yourself,_ her father had warned her, when she still a child.

Her father had lied to Arianne about that too, it turned out. She still cared. It still mattered. No matter what she tried to tell herself.

Stannis had not yet dismissed Arianne from his office. “Is that all, sir?” Arianne asked.

“You and I will be interviewing Asha Greyjoy later today. Make sure you’re up to speed on all the facts of the case before that.”

_Yes!_

************

“What do you think it means?” Justin asked, his eyes intently staring at the closed door to Stannis’ office. _Twenty two minutes_. It had been twenty two minutes since Arianne had walked through that door.

 _Congratulations, you’re the newest member of the team_. How many freaking minutes would you need to say that??

“What? What are really you asking me, Justin?” Horpe sounded annoyed and harassed, par for the course with him in the morning.

“DS Martell,” Justin said, keeping his voice steady, casual, uncaring. _Friends. We’re friends now. And colleagues. Soon-to-be colleagues, working in the same team. One for all, all for one, all that team-building solidarity bullshit._

Horpe ceased typing his report. “Obviously one of us is about to be promoted,” he said, sounding superior. How Justin loathed that tone!

“How do you figure _that_?”

Horpe looked at him as if Justin were an idiot. “One Detective Chief Inspector,” he began counting, “one Detective Inspector, and two Detective Sergeants.”

“The composition of the team. Yes, _Richard_ , I know that too.”

“We’ve been short a DI for months.”

“DI Seaworth is not ever coming back, is he?”

Justin expected Horpe to shoot him another one of his contemptuous looks, but Richard actually looked almost mournful as he said, “No, he’s not coming back.” He shook his head violently, as if shaking off any trace of sentiment, or worse, sentimentality. Shooting his trademark “you’re-the-biggest-idiot-I-know” look at Justin, he said, “Didn’t you hear what DCI Baratheon told us? DS Martell will be our new sergeant, he said. The team doesn’t need three DS; it needs two DS and one DI. Therefore –“

“So … one of us won’t be a Detective Sergeant soon?”

 _Detective Inspector Justin Massey. DI Massey at your service, sir._ Justin smiled.

_Made something of myself after all, pater._

Not that his father would care, or be proud, heavens forbid. Still a grubby policeman after all, Justin, not even a dinky solicitor. _How can I hold up my head at the club, for goodness sake?_

“And I’ve been on the team longer than you have,” Horpe said pointedly, rudely interrupting Justin’s daydream.

Justin laughed. “Richard. Oh _Richard, Richard, Richard_. Don’t you know the guv well enough by now? If you think he’s going to make a decision based on who’s been here the longest, then you don’t know Stannis Baratheon at all.”

Horpe looked away, furious. “I’m also a better detective than you are! I didn’t want to say that out loud to avoid injuring your oh-so-tender feelings, but we both know the truth, Justin.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort!” Justin exploded, fuming. “ _The truth_ , indeed. You won’t know the truth if it bites you in the arse.”

“No one is biting anybody on _any_ body part on my watch,” Stannis said, appearing suddenly out of nowhere. Justin and Horpe quickly stood up.

“Sir,” Horpe said.

“ _Sir_ ,” Justin echoed, louder.

“DS Martell and I will be conducting the interview with Asha Greyjoy. The two of you will be doing the interview with Rodrik Harlaw.”

Not one word on the promotion. _Nothing. Nada. Zip_. Justin and Richard exchanged wary glances.

*********

Arianne clicked on the recording device. “Interview started 11.02 a.m. Present in the room are investigating officers Detective Chief Inspector Stannis Baratheon and Detective Sergeant Arianne Martell, and cooperating witness Asha Greyjoy.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a solicitor in here with you?” Stannis asked again. He had not expected her to turn up on her own, but Asha Greyjoy had sauntered in, calmly, as if she’s going to a tea-party. She didn’t even seem resentful, the way she did when she was present as her father’s solicitor during the investigation of Ned Stark’s murder.

Asha raised an eyebrow, looking almost amused. “Your sergeant just said that I am a ‘ _cooperating witness_.’ Not a suspect. Why would I need a solicitor?”

“Your father was a ‘ _cooperating witness_ ’ too. That did not stop you from accompanying him for every interview we conducted.”

Asha laughed. “Interview? You mean interrogation, surely, Inspector. I was there as his solicitor, because my father chose to exercise his right to have one present.” She paused, staring at Arianne. “New to the team, sergeant? How do you find working with the inspector? Not a pleasant experience, I expect.”

“ _We_ ask the questions here, Ms. Greyjoy. And it’s –“

“- Chief Inspector. Yes, I know. Well, ask your questions then, _Chief Inspector_. My time is precious, you know. You can ask my clients about my hourly rate.”

As Stannis had instructed beforehand, it was DS Martell who asked all the questions, while he watched, never letting his eyes off the witness’ face. Asha Greyjoy had come expecting to be interrogated by the man who interrogated her father back then, had thought herself canny and astute to his ways and his methods. DS Martell was a completely unknown quantity to her.

“Why did you lie about how long your mother has been back at your father’s house, Ms. Greyjoy?” Arianne began without any preamble.

Asha did not bristle or lose her temper at being called a liar, as her father had done time and time again when he was being interviewed about Ned Stark’s murder. “We have not yet established that I did, in fact, _lie_ ,” she said, in full command of herself. “First you need to establish that fact, before you can accuse me of being a liar, sergeant.” Her gaze left Arianne to turn to Stannis. “Or has your boss not bothered to teach you that?”

Arianne flushed. _Continue_ , Stannis ordered with a nod, his own face a carefully-maintained blank. “Are you accusing your uncle of being a liar, Ms. Greyjoy?” Arianne continued.

This time, Asha _was_ caught unawares, and she had no time to rearrange her face to hide that fact from the detectives. “My uncle?” She laughed, to gain some time to gather her thoughts. “Which uncle, sergeant? I have many uncles.”

“Rodrik Harlaw. Your mother’s brother.”

Asha’s composure was shaken. “Uncle Rodrik? He has nothing to do with this! My uncle has nothing to do with –

“Mr. Harlaw made a statement to the police that her sister, Mrs. Greyjoy, that is, _your_ mother, has been living in your father’s house for the last three months. Your statement stated that your mother only came back to the house the day before your father’s murder. That is quite a discrepancy, Ms. Greyjoy. So who is lying? You, or your uncle?”

“No one is lying, sergeant.”

Arianne held up three fingers. “Three months.” She raised her other hand, holding up two fingers. “Two days. That’s a _huge_ difference.”

“I can count, sergeant,” Asha bristled.

“Not much room for misunderstanding, is there? Three days and two days, maybe, it’s possible. But not between three months and two day,” Arianne pointed out.

 “No one lied,” Asha repeated.

 “You may be charged with hindering a police investigation if it is established that you did, in fact, lie, Ms. Greyjoy,” Arianne warned.

“My uncle misspoke,” Asha said. “He misunderstood the situation.”

“Well, that should be easy enough to establish,” Stannis finally spoke. “My sergeant will fetch Mr. Harlaw right now, and we can clear up the misunderstanding.” Arianne stood up and exited the room.

Startled, Asha asked, “My uncle is here?”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you know that? He is being interviewed by DS Massey and DS Horpe in the next room. I think you remember them from Ned Stark’s case?” He paused, waiting for Asha’s response. When it was clear that none was forthcoming, he said, “Interesting that your uncle did not call on your service as his solicitor, Ms. Greyjoy. Or even let you know that the police has summoned him for another interview. Now why is that, I wonder?”

 


End file.
